


Meet Me Where I Am

by DeathByStorm



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Geralt Apologizes, Humour, Jaskier gets to yell at Geralt for his bullshit, M/M, Post-Season/Series 01, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27146335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathByStorm/pseuds/DeathByStorm
Summary: In which Jaskier is kidnapped, Geralt gets his shoes puked on, and an overdue apology is had.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 180





	Meet Me Where I Am

**Author's Note:**

> This work has been sitting 90% complete for months. So I finally took the plunge and finished it. 
> 
> As always, beta'd by my partner in life and crime, [Eilera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eilera/pseuds/Eilera)
> 
> All remaining mistakes are my own.

The thing is, Jaskier had known it was a bad idea.

But who could blame him? He was drunk, maudlin and trying to get over his ex-best friend whom he had also been a little in love with. Did he chase after someone even after getting bad warning vibes from them despite their obvious interest? Yes. Did he pick this person because they were the oppisite to Geralt looks-wise? Also yes. However, this was in no way his fault.

Of course, the sex had been nice. Sex usually was in Jaskier’s experience. However, he hadn’t signed up for the bondage part of the evening. Or the part where he got drugged. Or tied to a tree in the middle of a clearing outside of town.

“Where is Geralt of Rivia?”

And why couldn’t he have been kidnapped by one of his own enemies anyway? He had plenty of those. Of course it had to be one of _Geralt’s_.

His captor, Ronald, was holding his lute. His baby. It looked delicate between his clawed fingers. He plucked the strings and it gave a cheery twang. Jaskier closed his eyes.

“Please, spare the lute,” he said. His voice was hoarse from yelling for help.

The man dropped it on the ground. Jaskier would have wept at its treatment if his situation were not so dire.

“Funny, bard.” He grabbed his chin and forced him to look up into their eyes. The man’s hands were grimy and the grit was unpleasant against Jaskier’s skin. “Where is Geralt of Rivia?”

“We’re no longer acq-” Jaskier wasn’t sober enough for eloquence. “Fuck him.” 

If Geralt were here, he’d be laughing at the situation he’d gotten himself into. Well, maybe not laughing, but he’d do that thing he did where he’d huff in amusement.

“You’re Jaskier, aren’t you? The bard.”

“The one and only.”

At least he should be the only one. He’d had the name trademarked. The amount of ‘Jaskiers’ that had popped up after he’d made a name for himself singing about Geralt had been ridiculous. 

Ronald was visibly frustrated. Or at least Jaskier thought he was. The clearing was spinning too much for him to really tell.

“So, where is he?”

“Away from here,” Jaskier mumbled. His head lolled to the side. Why’d they have to do this in the woods anyways? He would rather be tied up and tortured in a place of comfort thank you very much.

“Nonsense. I heard he was skulking around these parts. He killed my pet. He must pay.”

“He doesn’t usually kill housepets,” Jaskier slurred. The ‘usually’ was owed to that time that Geralt had killed a warg that had been terrorizing a farmer’s sheep only to find out that the warg was the local lord’s pet. They’d been run out of town without pay for that one. “Well, mostly. Was your beloved pet a warg?”

“Even blitzed off your gourd you talk too much,” the stranger growled. “And she was a Kelpie.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes. The years he’d spent with Geralt had given him a little more than passing knowledge of the various creatures that hunted or harmed people for fun.

“Don’t they eat people?”

His head snapped to the side with the force of the blow. Jaskier rotated his jaw and felt something click. That was going to swell in the morning.

“Ow,” he added for emphasis.

“She never ate anyone!”

Jaskier raised a bruised eyebrow.

“Well no one who didn’t deserve it,” his captor allowed. He grabbed Jaskier’s doublet and slammed him back against the tree. His teeth clacked together and was that-? Yes, that was blood filling his mouth. He tried to spit at Ronald’s face, but it just dribbled down his chin. Damn gravity

“Last chance, bard. Where is Geralt of Rivia?”

“He isn’t coming,” Jaskier snapped. It was the truth.

Even though they weren’t on speaking terms and Jaskier currently hated his pretty face, if the Witcher was in town he could definitely count on a rescue. As it was, Geralt wasn’t here. He’d checked before he stopped.

Geralt was softer than he made himself out to be. The contradiction between who Geralt pretended to be and who he was may not have been what had drawn him to the Witcher in the first place. However, it was what had made him want to stay.

“Well, if you aren’t going to tell me…” Ronald drew a knife from the sheath at his hip. A kind of cold fear overwhelmed Jaskier and he suddenly felt sober again despite the drug in his system. “I’ll just exact my vengeance upon you.”

So this was how it was to end. Jaskier closed his eyes. If the man in front of him had no mercy to give, then he was at least going to give himself the mercy of not watching while he gutted him.

The blade kissed his stomach. Jaskier struggled to pull free of his bonds, but they held fast.

The sound of a familiar blade being drawn reached his ears. It was one that he hadn’t heard in almost a year. It couldn’t be. He opened his eyes.

A giant shadow loomed behind his captor. A glint of steel shone in the firelight and his captor suddenly stilled. The point of the knife was still pressed uncomfortably against Jaskier’s belly.

“Let the bard go,” Came an achingly familiar voice. “That is, if you want to live.”

There was a thud as the knife hit the ground. He stumbled backward and fell on his butt. He looked up at Geralt and whatever he saw there made him blanch. He was up and out of the clearing before Jaskier could even blink.

“Geralt!” Jaskier peered at the hulking blur. “S’that you? Knew you’d come crawling back.”

Geralt’s exasperated growl made him smile which he turned into a frown because he was still angry at him.

But if he wasn’t tied up, his knees would probably have given out from relief. Well, if he hadn’t already fallen over that is.

And to think that Jaskier had convinced himself that he’d be happy to never see Geralt again. Well, most of him would have been except of course for the tiny corner of his traitorous heart that still missed him.

“Jaskier-,” Geralt cut himself off.

He busied himself with cutting through the bonds that held Jaskier to the post. And damn him, Jaskier couldn’t help but watch the flex of Geralt’s muscles as he worked. He wanted to lick them. Geralt finished cutting him free and gently set him down.

He wobbled like a newborn fawn when Geralt released him and ended up hanging onto the Witcherto stay upright. The clearing and Geralt’s face were a blur.

Geralt moved to support him which Jaskier supposed was another point in his favour. “Jaskier, I’m-“

“I’m still mad at you,” Jaskier mumbled and threw up on his shoes.

“I’m going to wait until you are sober.” Geralt sighed, curling an arm around Jaskier’s waist.

This time Jaskier had the courtesy to miss Geralt’s shoes, but only just. He took a deep coughing gasp and tried to stand upright, only for his legs to buckle. Geralt pulled him closer and heedless of the mess that Jaskier was, swept him up into his arms. Then again, compared to the filth that Geralt was regularly covered in, this was probably child’s play.

“I hate you,” was what he wanted to say but his words came out as an incoherent whimper. He was beginning to feel worse and he wasn’t even sure if that was humanly possible.

“Hang on,” The rumble of Geralt’s voice in his chest was nice. Very nice. Jaskier pushed his forehead up against his throat to help ground himself. The world was spinning more than it had done so earlier. 

The walk to town was painful and Jaskier moaned as he began to shiver. Seriously what was in the drink that guy had given him? This was awful.

“M’ gonna pass out now,” Jaskier mumbled before doing just that.

*

Jaskier’s head hurt. He choked back a groan and cracked his eyes open. Offensively bright sunlight assaulted his retinas and he hastily shaded them with his hand. Great, he was hungover. What had he done last night again? There’d been that man, the one with the terrible name he couldn’t remember and – Geralt!

Geralt was beside the bed slumped on a chair with arms crossed. Jaskier leaned forward and took a closer look. Geralt was frowning even in his sleep.

Well, this was no different than a daring escape from a paramour’s bedchambers when her husband had just come home. He just had to be as silent as the grave. Slowly he drew the sheets back. He slipped out of bed and accidentally knocked something off the bed onto the floor.

Geralt woke at the sound.

“Jaskier. You’re alright.”

“I was just leaving,” he said. “Thanks for the rescue.”

He grabbed his shoes from the foot of the bed and began hastily lacing them up.

“How have you been?” Geralt cleared his throat.

Jaskier glanced in Geralt’s direction. Of course, Geralt wouldn’t even meet his eyes.

“Fine,” he said ignoring the ache in his jaw. It would probably take at least a week to go down too. He rubbed it with his hand to ease the discomfort. “I’ll be out of your hair in a moment.”

“I…”

Jaskier didn’t bother to reply. He just looked at Geralt, who appeared to be struggling to say something.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Jaskier waited.

“And… I’m sorry,” he ground out.

Jaskier opened his mouth and then shut it with a click. He wasn’t sure what to say and instead took a moment in the increasingly awkward silence to gather his thoughts.

“Are you now?” he said eventually.

Geralt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his hand.

“I took my anger out on you when it was really Yennefer that caused it. It wasn’t fair of me and I can understand if you don’t want to speak to me anymore.”

As the weeks had passed since their fight, hurt had given away to anger, and then sorrow. Jaskier had been friends with Geralt for 22 years. It was practically a lifetime to him. Eventually even the sorrow had faded and he just missed him. He even began to fancy that he would be happy to see him again, that old friend of his. But now, looking at Geralt who apologized as if it had pained him, the hurt and anger came roaring back.

“It’s not just that. Geralt, you’ve really hurt me. Multiple times even and you’ve never apologized for those either,” he trailed off and took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. 

“How can I make it up to you?”

Jaskier choked a little and threw his hands up in the air. “How? He asks. How?!”

Well, so much for calm.

Geralt flinched which was something that he’d never really seen the Witcher do.

Geralt reached out and took his hands in a gentle grip. “How can I make it up to you?”

For a moment, Jaskier thought of tearing them away, of stomping out of the room without a backward glance. He knew Geralt wouldn’t follow. Heck he could even say that Geralt deserved it. In the end it was the pained expression on the Witcher’s face that stopped him. And damn him, Jaskier missed him even more than he was angry at him.

“Would it help if I let you get one good punch in?”

Forget that. Now he was just straight up pissed.

“You! You’re infuriating, you know that? No, I’m not letting you off that easily,” Jaskier snapped.

Geralt gave him a confused look. Jaskier ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. This was not how he imagined this going at all.

“Do you want me to leave?” Geralt asked eventually.

“Yes! No! I don’t know,” Jaskier sat on the bed next to Geralt and put his head in his hands. This time, Geralt remained silent and waited for him to speak.

“Why did you do it?”

“I already told you.”

“Not all of it,” Jaskier said.

Geralt’s jaw clenched and he looked away.

“Aha.”

“I was waiting for you to leave!”

“What?”

“I was waiting for you to leave every time I said something wrong or came back from a hunt covered in guts,” Geralt hunched his shoulders like he was making himself as small as possible. It was a position he’d never seen Geralt take before. “But you never did.”

He looked back at Jaskier with open, wounded eyes. Jaskier didn’t think that was particularly fair as he was the injured party here but Geralt did wounded looks better than he did.

Geralt continued when he didn’t reply. “I was angry on the mountain because of what happened with Yennefer, but I was also tired of waiting for the day that you realized that I was too much. The anticipation would be exhausting to anyone. You were just trying to help. So, I’m sorry, Jaskier.”

It was by far the most he’d ever heard Geralt say at once.

“You were scared I was going to leave so you pushed me away?”

Geralt nodded, clearly having used his word quota for the day.

“Geralt that’s- 22 years!” Jaskier shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve known you, followed you, and crafted songs inspired by your accomplishments for 22 years and you think that I was going to just run off? What the actual fuck, Geralt?”

“I may have been a bit misguided.”

“ _Misguided?!”_ Jaskier almost screamed the word. “The correct word is _jackass_.”

“That too,” Geralt said.

Jaskier took a deep breath and glared at Geralt, who had never once apologized in his life. Was it worth it to let him back in? Once burned twice shy and all that.

The silence stretched between them as Jaskier deliberated. 

“First of all, you need to stop denying we’re friends. You need to treat me better,” Jaskier said.

“I-”

“I’m not asking for the world here. I’ve spent all the years that we’ve known each other doing my best to meet you where you are. It’s time that you meet me where I am.”

Jaskier was a little out of breath by the end of that statement. His cheeks were burning with anger and Geralt slowly turned to face him. He put his hands on Jaskier’s shoulders. The warm weight of them grounded him.

Geralt was quiet as he processed this. Jaskier waited a minute, then two for him to respond.

“Okay. I can do that.”

“Then I’ll forgive you. Just this once.” He turned. “But if you ever do something like that again, blame me for all of your problems because you are too emotionally constipated to face the consequences of your own actions, then I won’t be coming back. I won’t tolerate that, even from you.”

With a flash of bravado, he added. “And Geralt of Rivia? Never doubt that I’ll be there for you. As long as you never do what you did again, I’ll never leave you.”

“Okay,” Geralt said.

“Good, very good,” Jaskier said. He shrugged Geralt’s hands off and then sat back on the bed and drew his knees to his chest. “I’ll need you to go now.”

“What?” Geralt whispered.

“Just for a little while,” Jaskier said. Just so that he could finish processing what had just happened. It was like his insides had been scooped out and run through a shredder, before being haphazardly jammed back in. He just needed to put himself back together again.

“How long?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier thought about it for a second. “Meet me in the next town over in two weeks.”

“I can do that,” Geralt stood and clasped a hand on his shoulder. He stopped to pick up his gear and then looked at Jaskier. “Goodbye, Jaskier.”

“Bye, Geralt,” Jaskier said numbly. “Be safe.”

The Witcher closed the door gently behind him and like that Jaskier was alone with his thoughts. Somehow it ached more than when Geralt was in the room with him. He pressed the heels of his hands against his burning eyes and let out a shaky breath.

He laughed a little. That had been a lot more exhausting than he’d thought.

A few minutes later, he faintly heard Roach whicker below the window and Geralt make soothing sounds before the familiar sound of hoofbeats reached his ears. This time, carrying his Witcher away on Jaskier’s word instead of his.

*

It was with bated breath that Jaskier settled down at a table in the inn a couple of weeks later. 

He’d been waiting for less than ten minutes when Geralt finally walked in. Or maybe it looked more like he loomed in. If anyone could successfully do that, it would be Geralt of fucking Rivia.

Jaskier took a deep breath and let it out slowly to quell his nerves.

How could they go about mending their broken friendship? Would they even be able to? Jaskier smiled at Geralt and waved him over.

Geralt flagged down the barmaid as he sat down. “A pint of ale for myself and my friend here.”

“Geralt.”

“Jaskier." Geralt smiled.

One thing Jaskier was sure about was that it was worth trying. That it would take time and effort from both of them. And maybe, just maybe they’d be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to someone who is no longer in my life but was a big part of it for a long time. I wish dearly that things could have ended differently, and that you were willing to put the work in, but sometimes we don't get what we want. Still, I hope you're well.


End file.
